He's green and scaly and I love him

Sunday

Jan 15, 2012 at 3:15 AM

I'm a 59 ½-year-old woman with a dirty little secret. I have a pet iguana and I like him. In fact, I like him a lot.

I say him, but I don't really know if he's a boy or a girl. I don't do anything weird like dress him in little iguana clothes. He looks quite masculine. After all, what girl in her right mind would strut around with scaly lime green skin and a long backbone and tail covered in bony spikes.

His name is Spy and he used to belong to my son, Jeff, who, as an 11 year old had pleaded with us to let him have a lizard. "He can live in my room. I promise to take care of him," Jeff begged.

Jeff is now 13 going on 21 and Spy is so yesterday. Jeff learned he did not like the smell of iguana droppings in his bedroom. He did not like Spy's spacious digs (a large metal dog kennel converted to a lizard penthouse) taking up his teenage space. So, during one of "Jeff the Minimalist's" periodic purges of his bedroom when he throws out just about anything that isn't nailed down, he packed up Spy, the converted dog kennel and an electric heater and passed the lizard care package on to his 11-year-old brother, Jarid.

Spy was originally acquired in a delusional parental moment during April school vacation in 2009. I had to work all week, which left my husband, Dan, home with the kids. Boredom set in and fueled a passion for acquisition. With Dan joining the conspiracy, they cooked up a plot to go to the pet store and ended up taking home Spy, two red-eared turtles and an African frog. The turtles, Ash and Vincent, have since gone to that great pond in the sky. Sadly, after two years they were the victims of some sort of fungal infection. The African frog went to live with one of the kids' friends after everyone agreed that watching him eat meal worms wasn't that interesting.

Only Spy remains. He's about 20 inches long from his snout to the end of his tail and he periodically sheds his skin, like a snake, including the bony spikes running down his spine.

Technically, Spy's in Jarid's custody these days and sleeps in his converted dog kennel in what used to be a toy closet in Jarid's room. But, Jarid is 11 and that means I am still responsible for looking out for Spy. Did he get fed? Does he have fresh water? Is he warm enough? Does it smell like iguana poop? Is it time to change the coconut strata in the bottom of his dog crate?

I also do the shopping for spy. He's a vegetarian and likes fresh kale, dandelion greens, cantaloupe, oranges and grapes. The cashiers at DeMoulas always stare when I come through the checkout with fresh kale and dandelions. "Is that stuff good for you? How do you cook it?" they'll ask.

"Oh, it's not for me; it's for my iguana," I giggle.

"Ewwwwww!" they squeal, "They're horrible!"

Yes, Spy is horrible and I am at a loss to explain my connection to him. He is a reptile and I'm sure his tiny reptile brain doesn't remember me from one day to the next. He certainly shows no sign of attachment like a dog to a master. If I am not careful, he will nip me or slap me with his tail.

Still, there is something wildly beautiful about this electric green creature, and he's good company. I had a bad case of the flu in the fall and spent the day resting with Spy lolling in the sunlight at the foot of my bed. He didn't enjoy me so much as the warmth of my water bed.

We let him roam the house during the day. Spy puts the dogs in their place with a swing of his tail. He usually crawls up onto the sill of our picture window and climbs onto our big rosemary plant to sun himself -- king of the jungle.

If I have one regret about Spy, it is that he lives a solitary life devoid of contact with his own kind. He certainly can't talk lizard with me and I wonder if he'd like an iguana girlfriend some day.

I would hate to part with him, but if I were rich, I would fly him to Nicaragua and release him into the jungle so he could sun himself endlessly and find the iguana love of his life.

In the meantime, he'll just have to settle for New Hampshire and his perch of rosemary in our picture window.

Mary Pat Rowland is the managing editor of Foster's. Her e-mail address is mprowland@fosters.com.